Before the Last Petal Falls
by NordyGirl
Summary: A retelling of the legendary tale of a beauty and her beast. First in a series of novelizations of classic fairy tales.
1. His Story: Once Upon A Time

Before the Last Petal Falls

Our story begins, as stories often do, with "once upon a time". Our story is one that you may have heard at one point or another during your childhood before drifting off to places that exist only in your dreams. Our story is about the most powerful force in the world. Our story is about that which can destroy us or make us whole. It is a story of that which can break any spell. It is a story of that which humanity has coveted, wished for, hoped for, even died for. In our story, this force brought two souls together, both of who were polar opposites. That force, dear reader, is love.

But before I can tell you our story, another story must first be told.

Let me take you to a land that, in this day and age, you wouldn't find on any map except in a history book or perhaps your imagination. Our story takes place in a land whose name and location have been long forgotten through the years, and is now only the stuff of legends. It was long ago that our tale began in this forgotten country.

This land was ruled over by a king, who was very much like any other king you would find. This king had everything a man in power could ever ask for: loyal subjects, a prosperous country, and an elaborate palace. Of course, like any kingdom, it had a very rich history, some of which wasn't always pleasant. It was a very ancient kingdom, whose long history was dotted with many deep traditions, as well a few conflicts every few decades or so. But at the time that our story takes place, the kingdom was thriving, and their current monarch was beloved by his people. This king was however, a widower, and this king had a son, who was very much like his father.

The king was not a terrible father to the young prince, for it made it known as often as possible how much he loved his son. However, he was a very busy man, and as much as he took pride in his boy, he was not able to spend nearly as much time with him as a father in a local village might. His duty was to his country first, like any king should be. While their time was limited, they treasured what little time they had to spend together.

While the young prince was well-educated, and his father had taught him many things that young boys his age typically learned, the king died before he had a chance to teach his son how to be a just ruler and a virtuous man. When the king died, his son was heartbroken. The young prince thus decided it was too risky to love another, as they could be taken away from you at any moment. After all, he'd lost his parents, who couldn't be replaced. His fear of losing love again eventually built a thick, icy wall around his heart.

His servants attempted to lift his spirits by granting him everything his heart desired. While the prince had all of his immediate wishes filled, there was still an empty void in his heart, one that had yet to be filled. However, neither he nor any of the servants could pinpoint what exactly was missing in the young prince's life. Because of this unfilled void, he slowly became an unkind and selfish young man.

The prince was a rather handsome fellow. Tall. Muscular. A fair, but not overly pale, complexion. His eyes were the color of the sea. If you stared at them long enough, you might just get lost in them. His eyes were his only feature that showed any emotion whatsoever. His soul had become as dark and twisted as the black waves atop his head.

The prince had yet to see that his selfish ways would cost him dearly. He would learn this on a cold winter's night.

The prince was sitting in an overstuffed chair, staring blankly at the dancing orange flames before him. His servants had all retired for the night, and he was completely alone, left to his thoughts, just the way he liked it. It was on nights like this that he would stare at the fireplace, hoping to get lost in them and forget the misery that he would only acknowledge in the most obscure corners of his mind.

His silent contemplation was broken when he heard a rather loud knocking. At first, he decided to ignore it and go back to his thoughts.

He heard it again several moments later. That incessant racket! His patience was wearing thin, and he decided to investigate who, or what, had disturbed his solitude.

Walking briskly across the burgundy carpeted floor, down a large flight of polished marble stairs, and up to a pair of heavy mahogany doors, he pulled on the black iron doorknob, which revealed a hunched, solitary figure standing in the snow as the wind pulled at the figures ragged clothing.

He determined the figure to be an elderly woman. Her silver locks were blowing in the wind; occasionally covering her gnarled and twisted face. Her clothing was threadbare, merely a dress, some worn boots, and an old woolen cloak. She looked like any other beggar that had intruded his domain.

The prince inquired as to why she had disturbed him.

The woman cleared her throat and answered in a voice that resembled the howling wind, "Please good sir. I am but a weary traveler and have lost my way in the woods. If good sir would offer me shelter until the storm passes, I would happily reward him with this most precious of blossoms." She said, holding up the most perfect specimen of a rose the young prince had ever seen. However, he was not phased by her offer.

"You ask me to give you shelter in exchange for a mere flower? How dare you!" he said as he slammed the door.

He heard another knocking at the door. His growled in exasperation, and opened the door again, this time prepared to have a servant escort her off of his courtyard.

As he opened the door, he noticed that the old hag had disappeared, and in her place stood a beautiful enchantress. Her white-gold locks flowed in the wind, her tall pale frame standing up straight, her forest-colored eyes staring angrily at the baffled prince. She had an ethereal glow to her, as if she was not of this world.

"You have denied a stranger shelter who has done no wrong to you, and have thus proven that there is no love or compassion in your black and twisted heart. For your sin, you must be punished," she said in a voice that was reminiscent of both a calming breeze and a turbulent sea.

The prince fell down to his knees, begging for the sorceress' forgiveness, but she had no pity for the ashamed young man.

"You are to become on the outside what you are on the inside: a monster. All who live in this castle will be invisible to all, only their whispers remaining, and you shall be truly alone. You are to spend eternity under this curse."

"Please, good lady, I will do anything! Just name your wish and I will do it!" he said, begging at her feet.

"You must find someone to love you as you are, and learn to love them in return. This rose shall serve as your timekeeper. You must learn to love before the last petal falls. Fear not though, prince, for the rose will bloom for many years before it begins to wilt. However, if you cannot find love in your heart before the last petal falls, you are to spend eternity in this form, until death finally calls to you."

The woman then held her hands out in the air before the prince, and a flash of white light appeared at her fingertips. The curse had begun.

The prince began to writhe in pain, his teeth clenched in an attempt to keep him from crying out in agony. He soon could no longer bear it. Every inch of his body coursed with a burning, fiery pain that didn't seem like it could ever end. In the midst of this pain, he felt his skeleton expanding, hair sprouting from every inch of his body, his face, hands, and feet contorting beyond recognition.

The enchantress then vanished without a trace. Where she stood, however, was an ornate gold mirror. In the lens, there was fog. The man stared into the fog, seeing a message written in wispy, cloudy letters: _This shall be your only window to the outside world._

The fog then cleared, and in its place was the reflection of a creature that would frighten even the bravest of knights. Wild black hair sprouted all over his face, his features had become very wolf like. His entire body had become wolf like. His nose had been transformed into a hideous wet snout, his teeth now pointed, his feet and hands now paws.

And, for the first time in his life, the prince began to cry.

It was hopeless. There was no redemption for him in sight.

He resolved to spend the rest of his years wandering aimlessly around his lonely castle, bemoaning all of his mistakes. What else could he do? He deserved his punishment, and there was absolutely no chance of him ever breaking the spell. The prince quickly fell into despair and lost all hope….

For who could ever learn to love a beast?


	2. Her Story: The Village

Author's Note: Hello again, my dears! I do apologize for not updating this sooner (college is quite the time suck), but now you can expect regular updates! Now that we've met our beast, let us meet our leading lady, shall we?

o.0.o

Our story, as I have told you before, dear reader, is a tale of love. I have now told you _his _story. But before I can tell you _their_ story, I must tell yet another tale, _her_ story.

Not far from the castle where the prince met his dark fate, there lay a small, quaint little village by the name of Heart's Valley. A tiny, but close-knit community, with a master of every trade: the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, and so on. This village had its heroes and its outcasts, its triumphs and tragedies, its births and deaths. This ordinary village differed from every other village in only one way: it was home to a very special young woman, although she didn't know it yet.

You might ask if this young woman had a name. Of course she had a name! Everyone has a name! This young woman's name was Isabella Leroux, and some would say that her beauty could put Aphrodite to shame, although, being the humble creature she was, she certainly didn't think so, as she was quick to shyly blush at any compliment she received and give a timid, humbling response. Long, chocolate curls feel to her slender waist. Her pale, heart-shaped face was accented with a dainty nose, ruby lips, and chocolate colored eyes. Her voice was light and musical. Her spunk and cheeriness were often contagious.

She lived in a quaint little house near the edge of the village with her father, who was a widowed farmer. Her father made a decent living selling a percentage of their harvests and whatever eggs or milk their livestock produced to the local grocer. Their house was small, with little more than the necessities, and yet Isabella and her father were very happy with their lives together.

Now Isabella was a curious person. Ever since she was a little girl, she would see the castle on the mountain, looming over the surrounding forest and river. She would notice that there were dark clouds surrounding the castle, but nowhere else. She found it odd, as did the rest of the village, but no one could seem to come up with a logical explanation. She had always wanted to see for herself what was causing this phenomenon, but had never been able to go out and look. After all, the forest was no place for a young woman!

Oh, but she would see what caused such strange phenomenon soon enough.

One fine autumn day, Isabella was walking towards her home, her eyes plastered to the musty pages of a book she had borrowed from the local bookseller (who was the only person she truly considered a kindred spirit besides her family). She became lost in the dream world her book was showing her, with no signs of putting it down.

Her trance was broken when she bumped into something very tall…and very muscular. She looked up and saw that she had bumped into Johann, the local hunter and the object of every woman's desire.

Except hers.

Isabella didn't hate Johann, but rather the way he acted around her. Johann had always had his eye on Isabella, and could never seem to figure out why his affections weren't returned.

Isabella knew that trouble was coming, and so, she ran, her dusk-colored skirts billowing behind her, her curls blowing in the wind.

But Johann was faster. He caught her by surprise by taking a shortcut to the bridge that led to her house.

"Isabella! You're running again!" he said as he embraced her, not willing to let go.

"Johann, please let me go." She asked politely.

"Now why would I do a silly thing like that, my pet?" he said, a dirty grin on his face.

Isabella knew what the grin meant. He was starving for affection…and not just hugs and kisses.

"For the last time Johann, I am not your pet! Now let go of me!" she asserted, attempting to writhe free of his arms.

You see, Johann wanted Isabella for a very selfish reason: she was by far the most beautiful girl in town, and he "loved" her simply because of her appearances. If he had his way with her, Isabella would live a very sad life indeed.

"Bella!"

Isabella heard a woman's voice shouting to her from close-by. She saw out of the corner of her eye that it was her beloved sister, Eleanor.

At the sight of the other woman in front of him, Johann grudgingly let her go, Isabella collapsing in the process.

"I will have you eventually…make no mistake about that…" he muttered under his breath as he lumbered over to the tavern, the ground almost shaking as his tall body moved.

Eleanor then walked over to her sister to help her up.

Eleanor was a beauty, but in a different way. Her long face housed emerald eyes and pink lips, and her face was framed by long, honey-colored waves. Eleanor had left the farm her and her family had shared and married the local blacksmith.

"Bella, you really must say something to the constable or the governor about him! That man is a menace!"

She smiled slightly, and then looked down at her feet. "You know what they'll say Eleanor. They'll think I'm crazy. Crazy like…"

"Papa," replied Eleanor with a smile and a small laugh. While Isabella had friendly relationships with the other villagers, her sister and father were the only ones that truly understood her. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

The two women walked to the little house by the river. Her father was picking the latest harvest of tomatoes when he saw his daughters approaching. He immediately abandoned his work and ran over to embrace his girls.

You might ask why the village thought Isabella and her family to be crazy. Well, Isabella's father, who's name was Maurice, had a hobby of inventing things, as well as tinkering and toying with whatever he could find. Ah, the rest of the villagers were to be pitied, for they had no imaginations.

Her father gathered his basket of ripe tomatoes and followed his daughters into the house. The interior of the house was just as cheery as the outside. A brick fireplace faces an open window, which let in the sunlight and brightened up the room. The kitchen was off to the right, the bedrooms upstairs. The main room had a few scattered chairs and knick-knacks, as well as a desk for Maurice to do his tinkering on.

"So my dears, what brings you home so early?"

"I ran into Johann again Papa…" answered Isabella, eyes downcast.

"I thought it best that she not walk home alone." Added Eleanor.

"Aye," replied Maurice. He then turned to his younger daughter, "I think I've finally perfected my latest invention! I'm going into the city tomorrow to present it to a board of scientists at the university. If all goes well, my dear, you will never have to fear that man again!" he said, laughing gleefully.

Isabella smiled at the prospect. No more having to look over her shoulder whenever she left the house. She could live a peaceful existence.

Eleanor cleared her throat and said," I'd better return home before James starts to worry about me." She then embraced her father and her younger sister, wishing her father good fortune for the next day and advising her sister to take care of herself, and left the house.

Later that night, Isabella lay awake, seeing the castle in the distance outside her window. She wondered…who lived there? Her thoughts eventually lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, her father was loading up the wagon with his equipment. He then smiled as he saw his daughter approaching, a cheery smile on her face and a hand-knit scarf in her hands.

"I made this for you Papa!" she said as she wrapped it around his shoulders.

A smile crossed Maurice's thin face. "Now I know they'll like it!" He then embraced his daughter, gave her instructions for while he was gone, and kissed her on the cheek before riding off into the sunset.

Isabella waved to her father until she could no longer see him. She then began to set about her chores, not aware of the fact that her life was soon going to change forever.


	3. Their Story: A Weary Traveler

Your patience, dear reader, is about to be rewarded, for I am now able to tell you _their_ story.

The morning passed uneventfully for the weary traveler, Maurice. The sun shone just as brightly as it always had done (except for around the castle on the mountain of course). The dew glistened on the grass skirting the well-worn dirt road. The hooves of the traveler's horse and the rotating wheels of his wagon created an almost musical rhythm. Yes, it was a very fine morning indeed.

Later on, as the setting sun turned the sky the color of fire, Maurice approached a crossroads. To the left was the same dirt road that the traveler had been following all morning. To the right was a less-used dirt path, leading to a forest with pines and oaks taller than any giant you would find in a storybook.

"I wonder…" he said to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "If perhaps there might be a shortcut…" His eyes moved from side to side, eyeing each path before choosing to go to the right.

As the hours pass, the old man began to wonder if he had made a wise choice.

"Perhaps I should turn around and go left instead." He said to himself.

But then he thought better of it. "Nay, I've come this far already! I might as well go onward!"

But his apprehensions intensified as night crept over the land. The forest seemed to grow thicker with vegetation, the path becoming more and more vague, and the Maurice's lantern was quickly running out of oil.

Ordinarily, in such circumstances, the traveler would have used the light of the moon to guide his way, as any sensible traveler would when lost. But this ordinary sky had turned very unordinary indeed, for thick, charcoal clouds had veiled the moon.

"Ah, no matter. I'll find a clearing and rest for the night, then continue on my way."

In his search of a decent place to set up camp for the night, he heard a distant howling in the wind, and his apprehension increased tenfold.

"Oh dear…I don't believe that's a mating call…" he said, half to himself and half to his horse. Oh, I knew I should have gone left…but now I have no choice. I must go forward."

He went on a little further, focusing intently on the ever-fading path before him.

The snap of a twig broke his concentration, and sent his horse into a mad panic.

Maurice felt himself being flung backward as his beast-of-burden stood on its two hind legs, raising its front legs in front of its face as if to protect him. The horse whinnied in agony as he made a mad dash into the forest, leaving his owner and the wagon he had been pulling behind.

The traveler began to panic as he heard the howling growing louder and louder. He too, began a mad dash in no direction in particular.

His heart pounded in his chest, his breathing became ragged; sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Surely this can't be the end!" He thought to himself. His thoughts focused on only one thing: escape.

His concentration on his sprinting was broken when he crashed into something…cold…and metallic…

He found himself face to face with the tallest and most ornate iron gate he had ever seen. Not even the wealthiest merchants in the village had a gate this intricate.

The wolves were quickly approaching. Before he even had time to think about it, he opened the gates, ran through them, and shut them behind him.

He didn't even notice that the scarf Isabella had knit for him was missing.

Maurice now had no choice but to cross the stone bridge that lay before him. He didn't run, but rather walked briskly (as a man his age can only go so fast) across the bridge until he was halfway there, when he felt that he was at a safe distance away from the gnashing jaws of the wolves.

"Where am I?" he thought to himself. He looked up and found himself face to face with a tall, looming castle…and a smattering of charcoal clouds over his head.

As the man surveyed his surroundings, it began to rain. He ran quickly for the tall mahogany doors as the rain rapidly intensified.

He banged on the heavy doors.

"Please! I am but a weary traveler and need shelter for the night!"

He banged a few more times. The man was now soaked to the bone.

"Perhaps it's abandoned…who would live in such a frightening place?"

Oh, he had no idea.

He decided to escape the downpour by pulling with all his might on the iron rings that served as doorknobs. He then found himself in the faded glory of what he was sure was a once-magnificent gallery. Before him lay a huge marble staircase, which was covered in a dusty crimson rug. Several paintings adorned the walls, each one a portrait of someone who was clearly important. An enormous, dusty gold chandelier hung above his head, which badly needed cleaning and had clearly not been lit in years.

Maurice gently pushed the door closed behind him, careful not to make any noise. He then slowly walked further into the gallery, admiring its phantom beauty.

"_Ah! A stranger!"_

"Who said that? Who goes there?" he called, looking around to see where the voice had come from.

"_That does not matter good sir. What does matter is that you leave this place immediately before the master finds out."_

Another voice.

"There's more than one of you?"

A third voice uttered, _"There are many of us."_

"Who goes there? Where are you? Why do you not show me your faces?"

"_I'm afraid that is not possible,"_ said a fourth voice.

"And why is that?" Maurice asked.

A fifth voice called _"That does not matter. What does matter is that you leave this place before the master finds you."_

"Who is this master you speak of? Can't he hear you whisper?"

"_Yes…and no…" _said the first voice.

"Well, which is it? It can only be one or the other…"

"_It is very difficult to explain…you must leave good sir, for your own sake, leave and never return!"_ said a sixth voice.

"No, I want an explanation!"

"_The master cannot always hear us, but he can always sense our presence."_ said the third voice.

"What do y-"

"WHO DARES DISTURB MY DOMAIN!" shouted a new…almost inhuman, voice.

"_We warned you good sir. We wish we could help you but I'm afraid that now we cannot"_ called the second voice.

Maurice's body began to quiver in fear as he backed against the wall. "Please good sir! I am but a weary traveler and am seeking shelter until the storm passes…"

"YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE!", the voice roared again.

"My most sincere apologies, sir! I had no knowledge that this castle was occupied! Please, I implore y-"

Maurice froze where he stood at the sight before him. While the thunder rolled in the windows between the two side stairways on the grand staircase, he saw the dark outline of a…he didn't know what to call it. As the creature approached him, his face turned a ghastly shade of white, his mouth unable to summon speech, his lungs barely able to gather oxygen.

Maurice was sure that he was staring face to face with Lucifer himself. In a flash of lightning he saw a creature unlike anything he was sure the world had ever seen. While this creature had a wolf-like body, he walked like a man. Black, matted hair covered every inch of his body, a thick, midnight-colored mane sprouted out of his head. Lupine paws were where feet should have been. His tattered shirt was unable to hide his broad chest, his cape unable to conceal his wide shoulders. His hands were calloused and dark, claws in the place of fingers. His broad shoulders supported a thick, hairy neck and a grotesque face. A hideous, wrinkled, black, wet snout was where a nose should have been. His teeth were pointed, with an under bite. Is ears were pointed, like a wolf's. The only truly human feature he had were his sapphire eyes, which were burning with anger.

"S-s-s-ir! Puh-puh-puh-please! I b-b-beg you! I m-m-meant no h-harm!" Maurice stammered, desperately clinging to his sanity.

"NO! YOU HAVE INVADED MY HOME AND MUST SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!" the creature growled, clearly having none of it.

Maurice felt himself being dragged down a hallway into a dark stairway, leading to a dungeon that reeked of decay and death. When he saw in the candlelight what his captor's face looked like up close, his world went black, and he knew no more.


	4. Their Story: A Worried Daughter

Isabella woke up to find a fire-colored sky outside her window, indicating that the sun was rising. She hopped out of bed, pulled on a coat, and went out to go milk the cow. When the task was done, she then went back into the house, got dressed, and went about her day.

This same routine repeated for three days.

"I'm sure he'll be home soon." She thought.

To take her mind off of the worry beginning to form in the back of her mind, she decided to visit the bookseller in the village.

"Ah! My favorite customer!" cried the jolly old man, whose glasses always slipped off the end of his crooked nose. "Did you enjoy the last book you bought?"

"Oh, I adored it! I couldn't put it down!" she said with a smile.

"Glad to hear it!" said the man.

"Do you have anything new?" she asked with a hopeful smile, as though she were a child waiting for Santa.

He laughed in amusement at the young woman's eagerness. "Not since you were last here."

"Mind if I look around?" she asked.

"Of course not!"

She then began to peruse the shelves, looking for a new tantalizing tale. The shop was small, yet to her, it contained so many wonders. Books are what broke the monotony of village life.

She finally found a volume that attracted her and pulled it out, examining the title more closely.

"I think I'll take this one," she said as she fumbled for money in her coin purse.

"Keep it," the shopkeeper said, shocking Isabella.

"Are you sure? I can pay for it…" she said.

"I insist." The man replied with a smile.

A grateful smile spread across her face as she hugged the book close to her. "Really? Thank you so much!"

"Anything for a kindred spirit! Enjoy, my dear!" he said with a smile.

She left the shop practically leaping for joy, the shopkeeper chuckling in amusement.

She walked briskly through the cobbled streets, passing a marketplace, where venders were shouting various verbal advertisements for their wares. She ignored the exasperated shoving of mothers accompanying their children and the rude wolf whistles directed at her. All she wanted to do was get home and read.

She was suddenly stopped in her tracks when Johann jumped in front of her.

"And where might you be going?" he asked with a mischievous grin on his face, the one that Isabella hated.

"I don't think that's any of your business. Now if you'll kindly excuse me, I need to go somewhere…" she replied as she tried to maneuver around his massive body.

He shifted to block her path. "And where is that?"

"I just told you that's none of your busi-HEY! That's mine!" she shouted as Johann grabbed the book from her arms.

Johann flipped through the pages, looking quizzically and the text. "How can you read this? There's no pictures or anything!"

"Because some people like to use their imaginations. Now if you'll please give my book back, I need to go somewhere."

"It isn't right for a woman to read."

"And why is that?"

"Because…. it isn't right."

"What's not right about it?" she asked with a smirk.

"Because…it just isn't!"

She took the book from his large hands. "Well, when you can come up with a better argument than that, perhaps I'll take what you said into consideration. Goodbye." She said as she walked off, grinning over her triumph.

Johanns mouth was agape, staring stupidly as she walked away.

"What just happened here?" he asked a hunting partner of his.

"She's just crazy. About as crazy as her father!" his friend replied, sending both men into a fit of laughter.

o.0.o

She entered the house and plopped herself down on the sofa, and began her literary journey. She soon became lost in the story, about a magic spell and a prince in disguise, and before she knew it, she was lulled into a peaceful sleep as the night wore on.

The next few days she spent alternating between chores and working on her book. While she found many ways to keep herself occupied, her worry over her father's absence was increasing each day.

About a week after he had left, she decided to go and visit her sister. She went later in the evening, when she knew that Johann would be at the tavern drinking himself silly or hunting.

She knocked politely at the door, and a man of medium stature, slightly plump, opened it with thick sand-colored curls on top of his head. Eleanor's husband, James.

"Ah! Bella! What a surprise!" he said as he embraced his sister-in-law. "I'll tell Eleanor you're here! Oh, do come in!"

She entered the house, hanging her cloak on a hook on the wall.

She adored visiting her sister. The house was a small, but quaint abode. There was always a delicious aroma filling the room, a few of Eleanor's sketches hanging in frames on the wall, and, during the spring and summer, fresh flowers in a vase on the windowsill.

Eleanor entered the room and briskly entered the room and embraced her sister. She then offered Isabella a seat while she went to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.

"I suppose I better put the fire out in the forge before something burns down." said James with a chuckle as he left the house to go to the blacksmiths shop attached to the house.

Eleanor returned with two cups of tea and then sat down, giving a cup to her sister.

"How has Papa been?" she asked with a smile.

"I've not seen him for a week." Isabella replied as she took a sip. 'I'm beginning to worry about him…he should have been back by now."

"Hmmm…" Eleanor pondered. "I can't imagine why he'd be gone that long either…."

"I've decided…I'm going to go look for him in the morning…"

Eleanor gasped at this statement. "But…there are robbers on the road…and wolves! It's too dangerous!"

"I have to…that's why I came here. To ask if you could keep an eye on the house while I'm gone."

"I suppose so…but be careful!"

"Don't worry. I'll be fine!" she said with a smile as she took another sip of tea.

James came back into the house, soot staining his face.

"Closed up shop for the night." He said as he tipped his cap politely towards Isabella and went upstairs to wash himself of a hard days work.

The two women sipped their tea, chatting away. A few hours passed when Isabella decided that she needed to go and get a good night's rest for the next day's journey.

"I'll walk you home. Johann can't touch you as long as I'm there." She then called up to her husband to tell him that she was going out and would return shortly, and headed for the door. Isabella called farewell to him, grabbed her cloak off the hook, and followed her sister to the cottage where they had grown up. Eleanor bid her sister good night, warned her once again to be cautious, and left to return home.

o.0.o

The next morning, Isabella got dressed, did a few quick chores, took an apple and put it in her pocket, pulled on her cloak, and headed for the door.

For some strange reason, she felt a need to look back at the living room. She then sighed as she left, in hopes of finding her father.

Little did she know that she wouldn't see that house again for a long, long time…


	5. Their Story: Trapped

A brown horse trotted down the road, making a steady, almost musical rhythm in the dust. A young woman in a dark blue cloak was riding the horse, watching the first orange leaves of October fall to the ground. A slight breeze was blowing in the air, almost as if it was gently guiding the woman on her journey.

Night slowly spread across the sky as the day passed. The wind began to blow harder as the air grew chillier. The _clip-clop_ of the horse's hooves began to echo.

Isabella had reached the crossroads, an ordinary path to the left, a lesser-used path to the right.

As a little girl, her mother would tell her that if she ever got lost, to follow her instincts, and to listen to her surroundings.

Well, her instinct told her that her father, being somewhat of a daredevil, would have taken the more adventurous route and headed right.

Tall columns of black sprouted from the ground, the ebony branches creating a canopy. Between the intertwined branches and the leaves still clinging to them, it was very difficult to see the moonlight, thus forcing Isabella to light the oil in her lantern.

The horse trotted onward, maneuvering through the thick vegetation and the still soggy trail. The trail grew more vague as the night wore on.

_SNAP!_

That single sound sent her horse into a panic. She lost her ability to control the horse as it raced aimlessly through the forest. Suddenly, it came to a river, and began to back away from the water. This gave Isabella a chance to regain control. When she had soothed the horse, she noticed by the light of her lantern an old wooden bridge. It looked sturdy enough, so she decided to use it.

She was lucky enough to find that it was indeed stable. She then continued onward. She didn't stop until she saw something that caught her eye…a hand-knit scarf. The scarf that SHE had knit!

"He was here!" she cried. "Something must have happened to him…" She halted her horse and got off. She examined the ground by the light of her lantern, looking for evidence as to what had happened. What she discovered was what appeared to be the hoof prints of a horse that had dug itself into the ground, as if it had jumped across the small river. She also saw the paw prints of wolves, scattered in various directions. What intrigued her the most were the human footprints she knew to be her father's. She took the horses' reign to guide it, and followed the footprints to a large iron gate.

"He must have entered it…he wouldn't have anywhere else to go," she said to herself. She decided to open the gate and walk to the large mahogany doors.

She looked up and saw the dark cloud formations around the topmost tower. This was it! The castle she had seen every night since she was a child! She had no idea that it was this close!

She yanked with all the strength her small body could muster on the doors, and tied the horses' reign to stone statue of a gargoyle nearby. She then entered the castle, and had no idea what she was about to get herself into.

She found herself in a large gallery, with an enormous, yet dusty crystal chandelier hanging over her head. Portraits of long-dead nobility and elaborate tapestries adorned the walls. A dusty crimson carpet adorned a large case of marble stairs.

"Papa?...Hello?...Is anyone there?" she called, only to hear her voice echoing.

"_Greetings, fair maiden…" _a voice called.

"Who is that? Who are you?" she asked.

"_Which "you" are you referring to, mademoiselle?"_ asked another voice.

"Anyone! What's going on here? Where is my father?" she asked, desperation beginning to show in her voice.

A third voice whispered, _"There are many of us mistress…as for your father, I'm afraid all is not well…"_

"What? Whoever you are, show yourself now! I want to be taken to my father!"

"_I'm afraid we can't show ourselves…and I'm not sure you would be pleased with the state your father is in, dear maiden…"_

"Take me to him this instant!" she demanded, with an assertiveness that surprised even her.

"_As you wish…follow our voices, mademoiselle…"_

She followed the direction the voices guided her in. "I must be going crazy!" she thought to herself. "First I end up in an abandoned castle, and now I'm hearing voices! What's next?"

The voices led her to a cold, damp dungeon, where only the echoes of water dripping and a hacking cough could be heard…a cough Isabella recognized…

"Papa!" she called as she ran into the direction she heard the cough coming from. The sight before her frightened her.

Her father was weak. He appeared to have been underfed and was showing signs of illness. When she gripped his hands through the cell bars, his touch felt like ice.

"Who's done this to you?" she asked as she embraced him through the prison bars.

"_Our master, mademoiselle…" _answered a voice.

"Who is this master?" she called out, feeling rather silly that she was shouting at thin air in front of her father.

"You hear them too then?" asked her father, receiving a nod. "So I'm not going mad…"

"_Our master would not be pleased if we revealed his identity"_ called another voice.

"I demand that my father be released immediately! Can't you see he's sick?" she pleaded.

"_If we could release him, we would. We are sincerely regretful of his condition, but only the master can set him free."_

"Can't you ask him?" she pleaded.

"_I'm afraid that is not possible. The master does not take orders"_

"ANOTHER INVADER!" a distant voice growled.

Isabella's body quivered slightly in fear. "Who's there? Who are you?" she asked.

"THE MASTER OF THIS CASTLE!" the voice shouted. Isabella quivered more as she heard the voice's owner moving closer.

"My father is ill…please…I beg of you…please release him." she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.

"YOUR TEARS WILL GET YOU NOWHERE! HE HAS ENTERED MY HOME UNINVITED AND MUST SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!" He was very close now, for Isabella could feel hot breath creeping across her neck.

"Please…he could die…"

"THAT'S WHAT HE GETS FOR INVADING MY HOME!" he shouted, making her jump.

"Bella…darling…he is not to be trifled with…" Maurice said.

"Please…" she pleaded, but felt herself having the wind knocked out of her by something…hairy. She struggled to restore her composure and could not find the strength to return to her feet.

"Listen here…and listen good! I take orders from no one! He is my prisoner and nothing you say will change that! Do I make myself clear?" he hissed as he pinned her against the wall.

She pondered for a moment, when an idea struck her. "What if…I offered to take his place?" she said as she felt the "masters" grip being released.

This stopped him dead in his tracks. "What did you say?" he whispered, an edge of skepticism in his voice.

"I said I'd take his place." She answered.

"Bella, you don't know what you're doing!" her father pleaded.

"You would stay? You would really do that?"

"Yes."

"Very well." He said as he undid the lock on the cell door. Maurice immediately embraced his daughter. "Please, you don't know what you're getting into! I've lived a long life! Ple-AH!"

Bella began to sob as she saw her father being dragged away by the "master", only his shadow visible to her. The "master" pointed to the horse reigned to the gargoyle statue. **"**You see that horse down there? Take him and leave this place! If you show your sorry face in my domain again, don't expect to ever see the light of day!" with a final growl, he shoved the old man out, leaving a sobbing Isabella on the ground, watching helplessly as her father was shoved out of her life.

"You didn't let me say goodbye…" she whispered.

"WHAT?"

"You didn't let me say goodbye…I'll never see him again…"

He felt a slight twinge of an emotion he'd felt quite often when he was alone. Guilt. But something was different about this guilt. This guilt was not about his actions towards himself, it was about his actions towards another.

"I'll show you to your room…" he snarled.

"My room? But I-"

She felt herself being pinned again. "DO YOU WANT TO SIT HERE AND ROT? THAT'S PERFECTLY FINE WITH ME IF THAT'S YOUR CHOICE!"

Her body shook as she felt his hot breath on her face. "No…" she whispered timidly through her tears.

"THEN FOLLOW ME!" he said as he yanked her to her feet.

The "master" lit a torch, and for the first time she saw that the "master" was not a man at all…but a beast. She gasped in horror, her knees buckling beneath her. She felt as though she was about to faint. Right when she was about to collapse, a large, hairy hand jerked her back up and practically dragged her out of the dungeon, sending her stumbling behind him.

She was lead through a labyrinth of hallways, each decorated by various busts and paintings of long-dead royalty, cobwebs and dust covering every surface. Fear consumed her as she followed him, watching his lupine feet practically prowl across the dusty crimson carpet.

He then stopped at a large wooden door with an ornate gold knob. "You are free to go anywhere you like, except the west wing. If you fail to comply with this rule, you will be sent back down there, where you will never see the light of day again!" He hissed as he pushed open the door, shoving her in, and slamming it behind her.

She ran to the bed, lay down, and sobbed. Her life as she knew it was over.


	6. Their Story: Thoughts

The beast stormed back to his apartments, practically bursting with anger, guilt, frustration, and another emotion that he couldn't name. He slammed the heavy carved door and slinked to his balcony.

There were many times when he had contemplated his actions, but the events of the last few days had sent him into a tizzy of thought.

"Why did I let that pathetic excuse of a man go? I could have easily locked them both up…but I didn't…Why did I accept her offer? I could have torn her apart with my bare hands…How did they find this place?" he thought to himself.

He leaned against the stone railing of the balcony and looked up at the sky. Dark clouds slowly fizzled out into a blanket of midnight speckled with stars. He sighed painfully, wishing he had just let that beggar woman sleep there so many years ago…

He had been this way for 10 years. 10 miserable, wasted years. His whole life had been ruined by one wrong decision! Here he was, a prince, reduced to such a miserable state. And not just him, but a whole castle full of servants was no longer free to roam about as they pleased. He was living with a group of ghosts!

He rubbed his hairy temples in frustration, groaning in agony. It was all his fault. Everything that had happened to him, his servants, the girl, and her father were all his fault. And what saddened him the most was that he couldn't undo any of it.

His thoughts drifted to the girl. No one had EVER stood up to him before. No one had EVER suggested something that he had actually agreed with before. The girl had spunk; there was no denying it. And the way she had pleaded for her father's freedom…

"Perhaps love does exist…" he said to himself sadly.

A thought occurred to him. She could be the one to break the spell…no. It couldn't be done, not after how he had treated her. But still…for the first time in a long, long time…he felt a small glimmer of hope.

o.0.o

After a long period of sobbing, Isabella rubbed at her bloodshot eyes, clearing them up. She then saw the room he had given her for the first time.

He didn't give her a prison cell…he gave her a paradise! She didn't realize how truly comfortable her huge bed was until she had actually lay down on it properly. It was like sleeping on a cloud! The ceiling had a lovely painting of cherubs prancing among the clouds. Her four-poster bed was of a fine dark oak, her sheets a deep purple. Her magnificent gold mirror hung on the wall, and a white painted door led to a huge marble bathroom, all with indoor plumbing, which was a rare commodity back in the village. She had never seen such luxury in her entire life!

And then she wondered, "Why did he give me such a nice room? Was it out of pity...Or does he have other plans for me?"

She stared up at the painted ceiling, contemplating her mysterious new "master."

o.0.o

When Maurice returned to the village after fleeing for several hours on horseback, he went to the first place he could think of: Eleanor's. He knew she would want to know what had happened.

He knocked frantically at the door, and jumped back a little as Eleanor flung it open, and upon seeing her father, safe and sound, embraced him.

She noticed how cold he was. "Come inside before you catch your death!" she scolded as she pulled him into the house.

She then urged him to sit down, and grabbed a blanket from the upper level of the house, and then bustled into the kitchen to make him some tea.

When she was sure he was comfortable, she immediately began to interrogate him. "Where were you?"

"I can't tell you…you wouldn't believe me if I did…"

"Of course I would Papa!" she said with a smile, encouraging him to speak up.

"Alright…you know that castle on the mountain? The one where the sun never shines?"

"Yes…"

"Well…I took a wrong turn, thinking that it was a shortcut, and I got lost in the woods…and was chased by wolves until I came up to the castle…I went inside to seek shelter…thinking that nobody lived there…"

"Go on…"

"And here comes the part where you will think that I'm a lunatic…the castle is indeed occupied…but not by a man…but a beast!" he said, breaking down in tears.

Eleanor, although a tad puzzled, embraced her father.

"Alright…so…what did this beast do to you?"

"He…imprisoned me…for trespassing…All I wanted was shelter for the night…about a week later…Bella came looking for me…and the poor thing offered to take my place…we'll never see her again!"

At hearing this news, Eleanor's eyes also filled up with tears. While they both embraced, Maurice had a plan brewing in his mind.

"I'm going to get her back…"

"What?" Eleanor gasped.

"I don't know how yet…but somehow, someway, I will get her back! I don't care how many trips to that God-forsaken castle I have to make! I will find a way to get her out!"

"But Papa…didn't he threaten you?"

"He did, but I won't let a few nasty words keep me from getting her back!"

She smiled sadly at Maurice's ambitions. True, she missed Isabella just as much as her father did, but she knew that there was a difference between bravery and foolishness.

"How exactly are we going to go about doing this?" she asked curiously.

"I'll think of something…" he said, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

o.0.o

Isabella's thoughts drifted to her family. Where had her father gone? Did he return to the village? What would her sister think if she knew about the events that had just occurred? Were they out there right now, looking for a way to free of her from this magnificent, yet frightening place?

o.0.o

The beast watched the girl inspecting her rooms in his mirror. She seemed…satisfied…but then he saw a new expression come across her face: worry. Worry for what? Her family? Her life?

And he too began to worry, for he had no idea how this was all going to work out.


	7. Their Story: More Thoughts and a Name

Isabella was lying on the bed, staring up at the painted ceiling, when a voice suddenly called, making her jump.

"_Greetings lady…"_

"Hello…who are you?"

"_Which "who" are you referring to mademoiselle?"_ asked a second voice.

Sitting up, examining where the sounds were coming from, she answered, "Everyone I guess..."

"_That's an awfully long list, maiden,"_ said a third voice, chuckling slightly.

"In the castle?" she retorted, staring incredulously at her ceiling. "What's going on here?"

"_That is a very long story mademoiselle. We wouldn't want to bore you…"_ said a fourth voice.

"I don't care about boredom. I want some answers. Who is this "we" you're all referring to?"

"_We live here…we were once as you are now…in a solid form…"_ answered a fifth voice.

"Then how did yo- wait a minute! This is nonsense! Sitting here, talking to walls! I surely must be losing my mind!"

"_I can assure you, fair lady, that you are quite sane…"_ assured the first voice.

"Alright, I'll play along…who is your master?"

"_We cannot answer that question…not yet anyway. We wouldn't dare reveal his true identity without his consent."_ said a new voice.

"True identity? What do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity sparked.

"_Perhaps someday you will learn of it yourself…"_ called another new voice.

o.0.o

The beast watched the girl in the mirror, staring up, talking to the ceiling. To any other person, this sight would have been baffling, ridiculous, and nothing short of hilarious.

But he knew what was going on. His servants had decided to make their presence known.

"Why are they talking to her? She is after all my prisoner…" he thought. "Although, I suppose forever is an awfully long time to be alone…I should know…"

He watched her, listened to her words. Something about her curiosity intrigued him. When he heard her ask about his true identity, and his servant's response, he just stared incredulously.

"They actually think that the girl could fall in love with me? How absurd! All she'll ever see me as is a monster…it's hopeless…" he moaned, tears welling in his eyes.

This was the third time in his life he had ever cried.

o.0.o

Eleanor had escorted her father home, and returned to find her husband still in his forge, making a set of keys. She cleared her throat to make her presence known.

He turned around and smiled. "What are you doing up so late, love?" he asked, finishing off his work for the night.

"I need to talk to you…it's about Bella…"

She had grabbed his attention. "Go on…"

"Well…Papa came here earlier…and he wasn't himself…I don't understand…he was ranting about a Beast in a castle, and said something about Bella being trapped…I would like to believe him…but I just don't know…"

James turned around and leaned against his workbench. "A beast, you say?"

"Yes…and he's coming up with all these crazy plans about getting her out of there…"

"Well…let's have a little get together with him soon…give him some time to clear his head."

She nodded in approval of the idea. "Alright…hurry up and get inside...you'll catch your death soon!" She then kissed her husband and went into the house, leaving her husband to blow out the fire, turn off the lanterns, and lock the forge doors.

o.0.o

When he was sure the girl had fallen asleep, he tapped the wall three times, which was the signal he always used to summon his servants.

"_Yes master?"_

"What is the girl's name?"

"_But sir…we thought she was your prisoner! Why on Earth would you want to know her last name?"_ asked one of his servants, with a hint of triumph in his voice.

"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION AND I DEMAND AN ANSWER!" he bellowed.

"_Isabella…"_

"Isabella…" he said to himself, tasting her name on her tongue.

"_Do you require anything else sir?"_

"No…now get out!"

"_As you wish…"_

When he was sure he was alone, he sat down in his tall, overstuffed chair, thinking.

"Isabella…why did I even want to know her name? She's a prisoner! Prisoners and captors should NEVER be on a first name basis…so why did I do it?"

He then decided to go to bed, but it was not a peaceful sleep, for his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl…Isabella…

Although he certainly wasn't sleeping with a clear mind, this was the first time in ten years where sleeping wasn't consumed by nightmares.

o.0.o

Isabella lay sleeping, her dreams willed with thoughts about her family. Were they alright? How was her father coping with living alone? What would her sister think if she knew about the strange circumstances she had fallen into?

She thought of the voices. No wonder the "master" was so miserable! He was living with a castle-full of phantoms! She wondered just how they came to be that way, and how they could have ever tolerated such an awful "master".

Her thoughts drifted to him. What kind of creature was he? Certainly not something any scientist had ever discovered, nor anything like the creatures she read about in her books. And one thought still kept lingering in her head…

She didn't even know his name…nor he hers…

She had decided that if she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, she was going to get to know him, no matter what it took.


End file.
